


Morte Favolosa

by Zinthr



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Immortals, Choking, Consensual But Not Safe Or Sane, Consensual Necrophilia, Consensual Non-Consent, Fluff, Human AU, Immortals AU, M/M, MTT has some fucked up kinks man, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Necrophilia, POV Mettaton, POV Second Person, Romantic Fluff, Snuff, Trans Male Character, Trans Mettaton, Violent Sex, Well kinda i mean they're fleshy, i am sin in human form, idk man, is that a thing?, teeny bit of weird angst in here but not much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 20:08:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11493837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zinthr/pseuds/Zinthr
Summary: When you’re immortal, eventually you get to try out even your weirdest kinks with your boyfriend.





	Morte Favolosa

**Author's Note:**

> there is no context given to this it's just, here. Enjoy I guess. It's in second person because homestuck ruined my life. 
> 
> Thsi also got like, way fluffier than I had originally planned but hey. sometimes your dirty sinful necrophilia fic becomes a fluff fest.  
> it happens.

The feeling of his throat under your hands is indescribable. From the warmth of it and the ribbed texture you can only feel when you press, to the beautiful dark red color his already dark skin turns when you pull your hands away to roughly grasp his hips and grind down on his dick. 

He starts to say something, voice too raspy to understand, struggling on the warm ground, and he coughs some blood out onto his lips. It sounds a little bit like “stop” to your ears, so you growl and grip his hips tighter in your thighs, putting a halt to your bouncing as you reach for his throat once more. 

He gurgles as you press with both hands, pinkish saliva dribbling down his cheek. His eyes are distant, but still there, and he weakly claws at your arms as you choke the life out of him.

Long gone are the days that you do this carefully - anything, carefully. Why be careful when death is the least permanent thing you know? The morning sun brings you back, but until then you leave quite the pretty corpse. Papyrus always leaves such a pretty corpse…

It's fucked up, you know. You’ll be the first to admit, even, that this is horribly wrong. But seeing his eyes begin to cloud over gets you wetter than any porno’s or dirty words ever could. You rock in a quick and hard rhythm against his hips, savagely beating down upon him. It hurts, it hurts, it's not enough - you need to feel raw, to bleed, to hurt like you're hurting him. It's only fair. 

...You wish you could say it's for fairness. You love the feeling, always have - quick and animalistic, the pain like a second pleasure, the blood no longer a worry. You take your hands off of his throat for a moment, rake your sharp pink nails down his naked front and leave trails of red dotted with sweet scarlet blood. He gurgles and coughs, weak, his throat turning purple before your eyes. 

He’s beautiful like this. Your heart overflows with warmth, watching him gasp and cough, sputter spit and blood weakly from his bruised and split lips. His eyes are so hazy now. You keep up your pace, and join your hands upon his throat again. You press with all your weight, leaning forward over him as you do. You press kisses into his lips, feeling him struggle to breathe. You kiss his jaw, his forehead, his nose - and when you get back to his lips, you feel no air. 

He's gone. 

You sit back up, and stare at his unblinking orange eyes and dark purple-green neck. You pause, bewildered at how he can still look so beautiful and kind, even like this. You sit still on him and put a hand on his cheek, still warm. You nearly press his eyes shut, but decide you’d rather have them open. The moment is tender, has you thinking of how much you love this boy. It almost makes you want to take it slow, make love for hours and hours under the stars, like you two did when you were young and in love and knew nothing of the world and her mysteries. 

 

But, alas, no. Your time is limited before his body becomes unusable to you. You rock back and forth on him, grip his hair with one hand, and with the other you reach down to rub at your clit. You start your rhythm again, slower at first, but quickly build up speed. You hunch over him, masturbating yourself on his dick like he’s some kind of toy, and you let loose all of your sounds. You gasp, grunt, and moan - you worry not about how you sound or look, comforted by how you are alone but in some way still with him, the only one you let see you without your masks. 

It's quick and dirty and you reach your peak when you feel his face going cold, his dick just starting to soften as you cum. You yell, loudly, and then collapse onto him, feeling sore and satisfied in equal measure. You wrap your hand around his, squeezing, and burrow your face in his neck. 

You lay like that for a short while, pressing butterfly kisses along his neck. Everything is quiet here - the street is still, the birds asleep, not a thing alive in the house aside from you. 

You sit up as your breathing begins to even out, and press his eyelids shut with a kiss to each one. As much as you love the rare times that you get to explore this kink, it is a bit creepy afterward when he stares at you, blankly, nothing there. You always feel as if he’ll just sit right up, laughing, and ask you how he did. Ask if he performed well. And you could tell him that he did great and perfect and wonderful, like it was all an act and nothing more. 

You sigh as you walk to the kitchen, mulling over your thoughts. No use getting upset over it, you suppose, filling a glass with water. Sun will rise soon, and everything will be okay. You set the glass down and turn off the tap.

You pause to look at your hands. You look at the slightly reddened flesh, at the drying blood under your manicured nails. And you frown, wondering. How did it come to this? Why you? Why immortality? Why do you have to look at your hands and know they’ve killed people? 

You’re brought rather suddenly out of your thoughts by two arms wrapping around your waist from behind. You gasp, and look to the window to see a slightly lit sky. “Oh, Papy dear, I wanted to be with you when you woke up! I'm sorry sweetie, I must have gotten distracted.” You say, twisting yourself around to face him. You hadn't noticed in your deep thought, but your soreness is gone and your lower body tears do seem to have healed. 

Papyrus pulls you close and peppers kisses across your face. “Oh it's all right Mettaton! I don't mind at all! I mean, I always love to see your beautiful face in the morning, but I-” You cut him off with a quick kiss, pulling back to smirk and wink at him before shuffling out of his arms. You hand him the glass of water before walking over to the fridge, pulling out two slices of red velvet cake topped with pale pink frosting. 

You hand him one slice and lean on the counter to enjoy yours. “Thank you, Papyrus, really. I could not have asked you for more and still you gave me everything I wanted.” You say, quietly, smiling at him softly. He grins as he places the now empty cup on the counter beside you. He steps close to you and rubs his nose against yours before pressing your foreheads together. 

“Anything for you, dear heart.” Papyrus says, his breath warm on your face. His warm amber eyes stare capture your attention completely and somehow, even after all these years, you still find yourself falling in love with him in this moment. 

“I hope you enjoyed your birthday present, Mettaton.” He says, speaking softly for once. He takes a step back shuffles over, turning to lean against the counter next to you. You lean your head against his shoulder as he starts to eat his slice of your birthday cake. 

“Oh yes sweetheart, it was simply to die for.” You say, a sly grin on your face. 

You can physically feel the groan he gives at your pun, before the two of you dissolve into giggles and slide down onto the kitchen floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me how bad this fic sucks over at my tumblr, PaintedDoll. Or my NSFW tumblr, Terat0philia.


End file.
